


You Care

by This-Is-Not-Overwatch-Fanfic (Hobbitfing)



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Blood, Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-06
Updated: 2016-12-06
Packaged: 2018-09-06 20:24:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8767963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hobbitfing/pseuds/This-Is-Not-Overwatch-Fanfic
Summary: After Roadhog is injured when their camp is attacked by raiders, it's up to Junkrat to take care of them both.





	

Junkrat didn't remember running so far. He'd been in a fury, a blind rage, after he'd chased after the thieves who'd come upon their campsite in the dead of night, throwing nets from out of the darkness to incapacitate Roadhog. It had been the larger Junker's turn to keep watch, and Junkrat, quick as he was to wake, had barely had time to sit up before the thieves were on him, too. He'd been knocked unconscious, long enough that he'd missed their supplies being looted—everything that could be carried off was gone. They'd have taken the bike, too, if it weren't for Roadhog's clever kill switch that wouldn't let anyone but him start the motorcycle.

Not even stopping to check on Roadhog, Junkrat had stumbled off after the thieves, following their tracks by moonlight. They hadn't bothered concealing which direction they went, the fuckers, but they had a head start and the advantage of two feet. Junkrat was fast, much faster than people expected, over solid, even ground, but sand was treacherous and at last he had to give up, shouting panted curses before doubling over, hands braced on his thighs as he gasped for breath.

"'s alright," he consoled himself, "we'll catch 'em easy enough on the bike." Nodding to himself, he pivoted and forced himself to run back to where he'd left his companion. "Not your fault, Hoggie," he wheezed, "don't blame you for being caught unawares. Nets. That's a new one. Gotta remember that. Nets. They'll catch you every time!" He laughed at his own little joke, clamping a hand over his side where it ached from exertion. "We'll do some catching of our own, won't we, Hoggie? We'll catch 'em and get all our stuff back and take all of theirs!"

Coming over a slight rise so he could finally see their camp, Junkrat frowned. There was the hulking mass of the bike, throwing long shadows across the sand, and there was the equally hulking mass that could only be Roadhog, only…

Only he hadn't moved. Not at all. Not even a little, not since Junkrat'd left. There wasn't anyone to hold the nets down on him any longer, and they couldn't be anchored anywhere close to securely enough in the sand to withstand Roadhog's might.

Muttering curses, Junkrat slid down the hill, losing his footing halfway down and resigning himself to sliding the rest of the way.

"Hoggie," he called out at the bottom, rising into a crouch. He was quiet, just in case the thieves'd left someone behind. It's what he would've done.

No response, either from Roadhog's still form or any intruders.

"Roadhog!" Junkrat screeched, stamping over to his bloody useless bodyguard. "Oy! Lookit you, sleeping on the job! For all you know, they might've carried me off as booty, you lout!" He gave Roadhog's side a sound kick with his peg leg.

Roadhog barely made a sound, just a thick wet noise from under his mask, his chest barely rising. The sand under him was red and clumped together. The net was tangled around his fingers and mask but not anchored to anything else. He was vaguely aware of Junkrat around him, not sure if he was awake or not until the kick. If he'd been able to, he would've grabbed the brat's leg and held it until Rat apologized but his hands didn't seem to be responding. His mouth and lungs, either. He tried to speak, to sit up, but all he could manage was to dribble blood out of his mouth and into his mask.

When they'd knocked Rat out, Hog had fought. He wasn't sure what had caught him, but his back felt pretty ripped up. Maybe there'd been a shot? Guns were surprisingly rare in the outback these days. Hard to keep them clean and find ammo. Whatever it had been, he needed his hogdrogen.

"Hoggie?" Junkrat asked, soft and tentative and uncertain, a question this time rather than a demand.

His hands wouldn't move, wouldn't let him let Rat know he was still alive. Again, he sputtered up some blood. Breathing hurt. That wasn't a good sign.

Luckily, the hand Junkrat had access to was the one with only a bracelet, rather than a full gauntlet, and after a few seconds' effort Junkrat managed to unsnap it and pull it off. He pressed his fingers to Roadhog's bare wrist—his prosthetic ones, in his rush—and he swore at himself as he switched hands. He couldn't feel anything, and for a moment his heart stuttered, but he could hear Hog breathing, great, wet, wheezing gasps that shook his whole frame, and if he was breathing his heart had to be beating, right? Right?

"Fucking…I hate this thing!" Junkrat tore at his bodyguard's mask, fingers scrabbling uselessly on the thick leather. "Need to get it…off!" He couldn't find a clasp or catch, and Roadhog was mostly laying on top of the back of the mask. Grunting with effort, he managed to shift Roadhog's massive head so he could access it. There were no buckles, the straps just crossed each other in the back, and how the fuck did Roadie take this thing off. There was a deep, shuddering sob building in Junkrat's chest, so he thumped himself in the ribs and got on with it. No obvious fastenings of any kind. Maybe he just…pulled it on?

Even with fingers as small as Junkrat's, it was difficult to work them between the bottom of the mask and Roadhog's chin. The leather was stiff and unyielding and if Junkrat'd had a knife he would've just cut the stupid straps, but the thieves had taken his knife, too, so he had to sit and sweat and swear until he managed to pull it up and off and over the back of Roadhog's ponytail, hissing apologies as he snagged hairs and didn't take the time to avoid pulling them out. Roadhog barely stirred, and _oh fuck_ that was bad.

At least now Hog's face was revealed, and he seemed to be breathing more easily, or was that just wishful thinking? Junkrat spared just an instant to think, _handsome_. Roadhog's face was spattered with blood where he'd breathed it out as a mist, and his lips and jaw were coated where he'd drooled thicker ribbons of it.

"Oh, _Hoggie_ ," Junkrat sighed, wanting very much to just sit in the sand beside his dying bodyguard and have a good cry. They were in the middle of nowhere, which was great when they had a functional motorcycle, but deadly now that Junkrat had to walk. Alone. Without any supplies. "Oh, mate."

Roadhog turned his head to the side and spat to clear his mouth. The wind felt good on his face, but colder than he was used to, and he shivered. "Hogdro—" he rasped. Rat looked frightened and anxious, but they'd been in worse spots than this. They'd get through it, like they did. Roadhog was finding it difficult to keep his mind on one track. The whole thing seemed dreamlike, especially now that his mask was off.

Junkrat shook his head, hard, over and over. "Isn't any," he whispered. "If there was, I'd give it to ya, Hoggie mate, but…they took everything. Wait!" He snapped upright, climbing to his feet and trying to ignore how wet the sand around Roadhog was or how far the wetness had spread, and hobbled to the motorcycle. Roadhog had shown him a hidden panel in the bike's side, where he kept a spare can of hogdrogen. It hung open, a little dark space inside. Empty.

Trying to control his frantic breathing, Junkrat ran back to Roadhog, sinking to his knees beside his downed bodyguard. "None. Not any. 's all gone."

"Mask," he rumbled, trying not to cough up blood. There should be some hogdrogen left in the chambers of the mask, he just had to push on it as if he was attaching a canister. That would at least get him through the night. After that… they'd figure it out.

"Ok." Junkrat nodded, shakily, struggling to pull the fucking mask back down, when he'd only just gotten it off. "Least I got to see your face, eh? Just this once. Before…" No. You weren't supposed to _tell_ dying people they were dying, were you? Not the ones you liked, anyway, the ones whose deaths you weren't gloating about. He patted the scarred leather instead. "You'll be fine, mate, just fine. Maybe…maybe I'll even get to see your face properly, in the light."

The whole situation was too big, too overwhelming, and his head was pounding where the fucking thieves'd thumped him, and he couldn't even pull himself together enough assess how badly Roadhog was hurt or put together what'd happened.

Roadhog ignored Junkrat for now, struggling to lift his hands and press at his mask hard enough to release the remaining hogdrogen. He sighed with relief as it came out, breathing more easily. Peeling his mask back off once he was sure he'd breathed in all the chemicals he was able to, Hog grabbed Rat around the shoulders and pulled him down into the sand next to him to keep warm. And maybe to comfort the scrawny little rat too.

"'s okay."

"It's not!" Junkrat protested, shocked. Was Roadhog really reassuring _him_?

"Gunna be fine."

Junkrat snorted in derision. "There's a whole lotta blood here says otherwise." It felt nice, he had to admit, even under the circumstances, being pressed all warm and safe against Roadhog's massive girth. Left them open to attack, sure, but…nice. He'd always thought Roadhog was handsome, always, even back in Junkertown when Roadie'd been a big, important, almost mystical figure and Junkrat had been, well…a Junkrat. Imagined those hands picking him up…

He shook his head. Not the time for those kind of thoughts, even if he had just seen Roadhog's face for the very first (and probably last, unless he pried the mask off Roadie's corpse) time. Coarse, silver stubble, prominent lower teeth, a network of scars. It was so pale compared to the rest of his skin, constantly exposed to the elements.

He'd never thought he'd get this close. That Roadhog'd be protecting him. That Roadhog would gather him up in his arms like this and hold him tight. "Don't die," he whispered, barely more than a whimper. "Please, Roadie, don't die and leave me all alone."

"Won't." Roadhog promised, his big fingers stroking what was left of Junkrat's hair. He was feeling a little stronger, at least able to move his arm, and his breath was coming easier, quieter. "'s okay, Rat, 'm here."

Rat must have figured out he was healing, even the way he sounded was different now. Roadhog didn't have the energy to explain it to him. After a full night's rest he'd be able to limp to his bike at least.

"You weren't supposed to _hear_ that!" Junkrat whispered back, mortified. Roadhog was comforting him. Saying sweet things. That could only mean one thing—Roadhog was definitely dying, and trying to cheer him up before he went. That wasn't right. Well, nothing about this was right, not Roadhog dying on a bloody patch of sand, not Junkrat being trapped out here, not all their plans ending like…this.

Determined, Junkrat squirmed free of Roadhog's encircling arms, using the sand to his advantage; it shifted as he moved, giving him room to wiggle. Roadhog was dying, there was no question about that, but Junkrat was damned if he was just going to stand there. He owed it to Roadhog to make his last minutes or hours as comfortable as possible. How, he wasn't quite sure—they had nothing, no supplies, no blanket he could use to cover Roadhog, not even any water.

Sitting a short distance away, legs crossed, elbows resting on knees, Junkrat pondered Roadhog's bulk as he thought. A blanket. Well, the closest thing was… Junkrat undid his belt and shimmied out of his ragged shorts. He shivered; even the few extra inches exposed to the night air was chill, but he had poor dying Roadhog's comfort to think about right now. He'd get his shorts back soon enough.

As he rolled up his belt, he gave a crow of wild delight—they hadn't taken the small flask he kept there! Either they hadn't noticed it, or hadn't thought it was big enough to bother unstrapping. He threw it on top of his shorts, in his tiny pile of Useful Things.

There were still some grenades strapped to his chest; the thieves had probably assumed—correctly—that they were booby trapped and would explode if not removed correctly. Well, that was something.

"Won't let 'em get you, Hoggie," he promised, "won't let the birds and dingos eat you. Blow you up good and proper."

He stood, carrying his pitiful treasures. Surveying Roadhog, one eye squinted shut in assessment, he finally draped his shorts on Roadhog's stomach, trying to stretch them to cover more area.

"Sorry, Hoggie, wish I was bigger, or at least that my shorts were. Got some water here though!" He sloshed it. He knew it was stupid, giving a dying man water. Wasn't going to do him any good. But Roadhog had taken good care of him, and now was his chance to return the favour. To send Roadhog off thinking, _That Junkrat was a good mate to me, in the end_.

He unscrewed the cap and knelt by Roadhog's head, offering him the canteen. "Here, have a little drink. Make you feel just fine, you'll see." He turned a sniffle into a cough.

Roadhog took the water gratefully, sipping it slowly and clearing his mouth of the remaining blood. With a groan, he lay back limply, trying not to laugh at Rat offering his shorts up like a blanket. They barely covered the skinny little bomber, how did he think they were going to cover him?  "C'mere," he gestured, trying to get Junkrat to settle in the crook of his arm again. He wouldn't be useless long. He'd get up in the morning and there would be hell to pay.

Junkrat shook his head. Scampering to Roadhog's other side, he started digging in the blood-soaked sand beside his bodyguard, throwing it aside.

"Jamie."

"Little busy right now." Junkrat kept scooping more handfuls of sand. "Oh. Want more water?" he asked, more softly. No point getting cranky with Hoggie, the poor dying sod.

"Just c'mere. Sleep." He put his mask face down in the sand, carefully. "We'll get 'em tomorrow."

"No!" Junkrat protested. "Gotta make you comfortable first." Finally, he was getting down to clean sand. The least he could do was make sure Roadhog didn't have to die in his own mess, shivering as the blood cooled around him.

"'m fine," he laughed. "Lay down, Rat."

Panting, Junkrat decided he'd gotten this side as clear as possible, so he crossed to Roadhog's other side and started digging a trench of clean sand there, too.

"'m tired, Jamie," Hog tried a complaint. Normally he didn't, but if Rat was trying to reverse their roles for the night, maybe this would work.

Junkrat's bottom lip trembled. "I know, mate. I'm almost done. Then…then you can rest, long as you want." The digging didn't help the throbbing in his skull, but it did help him think of something besides being stuck out here after Roadhog died.

Rat's voice cracked a little as he spoke. He was upset. Digging was helping him focus on something, Hog realized. It'd wear him out for sleep. He nodded, letting Rat finish his work. He was nearly asleep even as he was, sticky with blood and slightly cold on the coarse sand.

Panting, Junkrat fell onto his back, his scrawny chest heaving. "There ya go, mate. Should be better for you now. Don't know…don't know how much more I can do. Want more water?" His eyelids were so heavy, and the world was spinning and he thought he might be sick and it was better with his eyes closed. "Be right…there…" he murmured, eyes drifting shut. They opened once, briefly, and then shut again.

Hog gently stroked Rat's face as he began to snore softly. They'd both still feel like shit tomorrow but they'd track down the junkers who stole from them and make them pay, and then they'd feel much better.

It wasn't long until they were both asleep.

 

***

 

"What's for breakfast, Hoggie?" Junkrat asked, as he always did. It was a bit of a joke between them—well, for _him_ , anyway, wasn't like Roadhog ever laughed or cracked a smile. Or did he? Their food was all more or less the same, depending on whether they'd just gotten supplies or not. Mostly canned something-or-other.

Junkrat rolled over, saw his bloody, sandy hands, and remembered. He curled into a tight, tight ball of utter misery. Roadhog was dead. He was alone. Stranded in the middle of no where, with no supplies and no way out but walking.

"Nnn," Roadhog replied, grumpily. Jamison's jokes wore thin pretty quickly, especially when they had no food and very little water. He kept his eyes shut against the sunlight, more used to the mask's tinted lenses.

Great. It hadn't even been twelve hours and already Junkrat was imagining Roadhog's voice. Well, sounds, anyway.

Roadhog rolled onto his side, taking a lot of bloody sand with him. It was quite firmly stuck to his skin and his clothes. Fuck. At least he was in a lot better shape than he'd been in last night.

Junkrat heard a sound and sighed. Fine. He uncurled, rolled over. Roadhog's body had moved, because of course it had. "Gas getting to you already?" he asked, sympathetically. "Won't be much longer before I join you, don't worry."

"What?" Hog growled.

"What d'you mean what? 'Til I'll be dead!" Junkrat scoffed. "People say _I'm_ stupid." He paused, then his eyes widened. "I am stupid! You're just in my head and you're being stupid, so that means it's really me who's been stupid all along!"

Roadhog rolled back over and grabbed Jamie by his harness none-too-gently. "You are stupid. Let's get up."

Junkrat's eyes widened even farther, almost painfully. His face broke into a wide, ecstatic smile, easily allowing Roadhog to manhandle him. "Hoggie! You're alive!" He frowned, eyes narrowing again in suspicion. "Or are you, really? How do I know you're not just in my imagination, hmm? Do something…do something I'd never imagine you doing."

Hog's mouth turned up a bit with a smile. It was crooked, and his teeth stuck out funny.

"…you alright?" Junkrat leaned away, concerned.

"Never seen me smile before."

"Th-that was a smile?" Junkrat laughed, cackling when he looked up at Roadhog again. "Mate, I don't think you've ever seen anyone smile. Never would've known that's what that was if you hadn't told me." He wiped a tear out of his eye. "Oh, Hoggie, that was…" He blinked. "Something I never would've imagined you doing. You _are_ alive!"

"Still had some hogdrogen left in the mask," he explained, picking up the leather mask and carefully removing the sand that had gotten into it.

"Oh." Rolling over, Junkrat punched Roadhog's arm, as hard as he could. "I thought you were dying, you utter wanker! You just let me think…"

"Thought you understood," he shrugged. "Still hurt to talk."

"You're _awful_!" Junkrat screeched, somewhere between laughter and sobbing.

Roadhog grabbed him around the neck and pulled him to his chest, his thumb stroking the back of Rat's head. "Not leaving you yet."

"Better not."

**Author's Note:**

> The title comes from [this](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ree6beRYd7Q)


End file.
